


Napkins

by teaberryblue



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Illustrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaberryblue/pseuds/teaberryblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy visits Angie's room at the Griffith for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Napkins

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thesaddestavenger), just reposting in Ao3 for completeness' sake!

Angie's room was small, but clean and well lit, and stuffed to the gills with books, sheet music, scripts, tchotchkes. 

The centerpiece of the room was a large, overstuffed chair, with a hand-crocheted afghan draped over it. 

She hastily straightened it, and pointed to the seat with a flourish.

"My grandma made it," she explained brightly.  "Ta-da, take a seat, can I get you something?  I have..." 

She peered in the tiny refrigerator.  "Water. Or tea. I could make you tea, yeah?"

Peggy sat down, absorbing the mess of colors, patterns, bits and bobs that surrounded her. 

"Water's fine," she said. 

She picked up a theater program off the little side table. 

"Oooh, I was in that!"  Angie exclaimed proudly, as she brought Peggy a glass of water-- well, a teacup of water, a pretty white-china teacup with pink roses and a gilt edge that had chipped in one spot. 

"We ran three weeks before we got shut down on account of the fire codes." 

Angie sat down on the threadbare green velvet ottoman that was clearly intended to be used as a footrest and not a chair. 

"Fire codes?" Peggy asked. 

"Yeah, whole place blew sky high like...a week later?" Angie answered, knocking her knees together.  "Anyway, I'm pretty sure it was an inside job; the place was falling apart.  That, and the director was a piece of work.  Lost three leading ladies due to creative differences, _if_ you know what I mean." 

"That's a shame," Peggy answered, absently, as her eyes moved to a patch of whitewashed wall, covered in slightly yellowing paper napkins.  The napkins were marked with little ink drawings, mostly unfinished: pictures of people, food, dishes, the occasional fanciful doodle. 

She frowned at them, got up from her seat, walking over to take a closer look.  "What are these?" she asked.

"Napkins," Angie answered.

"Well, I could tell that," Peggy pointed out. "Did you do these?"

"Naw, I can't draw a stick man," said Angie.  "Kid used to come in, oh, before the war, back at my first waitress job, little _dive_ of a place.  He'd just sit and drink coffee, black coffee, all lunch hour.  He was freelancing at the paper, or something?  Drawing. He was an artist, but I guess he really wanted to go fight in that war."

She laughed and shrugged.  "Not that anyone would've let him; you shoulda seen him; he was _teeny_ and always coughing up a lung.  Anyway, he'd leave these. I asked if he wanted 'em, and he'd say no, so I figured I'd keep 'em.  That's the first time anybody ever drew _me_ ," she said, pointng at a few of the doodles.

"One time he got into a _bruiser_ of a fight with some guy who pinched my ass," Angie explained.  " _Real_ bad.  He got blood all over his tie; I snuck him free grilled cheese for a week."

She grinned, shot Peggy an amused look.  "You kinda remind me of him, now that I think of it." 

Peggy pursed her lips together, then smiled back, pressing a finger to the embossed edge of one of the napkins.  "Guess I'm in good company, then," she replied. 

"Angie?"  Peggy asked.

"Yeah?"

"Could I have that cup of tea, after all?"


End file.
